Bobby's Job
by CMHValex
Summary: ONESHOT Bobby Drake gets a job and meets an old friend.


1ONESHOT! Bobby gets a job, and meets an old friend.

**A/N: I just got off work, where I was inspired to write this, because I, ironically enough, am about to force my selfsame job upon the Iceman we all know and love. P.S. This is dramatized, it's not really this bad. Most of the time.**

Disclaimer: I don't own any X-Men or cool, buzzy coasters. Nor do I own any Dairy Queen-related products. Thank goodness.

When Bobby entered the building and sat down with the boss, he only thought he knew what to expect. He had his social security card and driver's license handy and ready to use on the application, and he listened carefully as the manager told him what he'd be doing. Without even grimacing, he took the bright red shirt and blue and red visor the woman gave him and walked to the bathroom to change. Looking at the DQ emblem on his shirt, he realized, once and for all, that he was a Dairy Queen man.

As soon as he clocked in, the craziness began. Some girl told him to take out the orders and give them to the customers, and sighed in frustration when she had to show him how.

"It's easy," huffed the girl, whose name tag read 'Ashley.' "All you do is read the ticket, put the food that's listed onto the tray, put some napkins and ketchup on the tray, and punch in the coaster number. Then you just wait over there for them to come." The coaster she was referring to, of course, was a neat little device that lit up and vibrated when the number was pushed in, alerting the customer to the fact that the food was ready. Of course, Bobby waited for two or three minutes before finally realizing that no one was going to come for the food. He asked the cashiers whose food it was, and of course, they had no idea. Finally, he began looking from table to table. Sitting in the corner was a middle-aged couple, completely ignoring the buzzing, rattling coaster that was lit up like the fourth of July.

After two or three more instances in which he had to search all over the place for customers with lit coasters, one of who had gone to the other end of the counter to pick up his order, despite the huge, bright red sign with white letters that screamed "PICK UP ORDERS HERE" over Bobby's head, someone decided to train him on ice cream.

"Finally, something I can relate to," Bobby thought with a smirk. He soon found, however, that there were a million and one different things he needed to do. Looking at the screen displaying the ice cream he was supposed to be making at the moment, he almost smiled when he realized that he was supposed to make his personal favorite blizzard, the banana split blizzard. He put the required strawberries, pineapple, chocolate syrup, and fresh banana that he had to cut up himself into the cup with the ice cream, and put it on the blender. Of course, he started off slow, but someone soon showed him the error of his ways, and turned the thing up full blast. Finally, the thing was done. Bobby put the spoon in it, and turned it upside down, according to Dairy Queen law. Unfortunately, banana split blizzards are notoriously messy, so the thing fell out right off the bat. The customer got it free, and one of the other workers, 'Lacey,' according to her name tag, made another. Going back to the screen, Bobby thought he'd try something a bit different.

"Hmm, a mocha moolate." What is a moolate, you ask? As anyone who's ever made or ordered one from DQ can tell you, it's a frozen coffee drink. Mocha has chocolate in it. "That shouldn't be too hard," thought Bobby. "Fill with slushie ice up to the line, put the coffee syrup in, then some chocolate, and then the ice cream. Then mix. Okay, I can do this." Big mistake, once more. The collar, which goes on the cup and rises an extra inch or two to keep the contents inside the cup, didn't fit the moolate cups very well. Bobby ended up with a big moolate mess all over the blender and himself. By the time he was drenched in moolate, blizzard splatters, chocolate milkshake, and something that looked like carmel, though he didn't know when_ that _happened, Bobby was finally sent to the kitchen for some mop water.

Minding his own business, he filled the mop bucket with soapy water and trudged back to the front, only realizing that the voice of one of the cooks sounded oddly familiar once he got back to the counter. Once more he was sent back through the kitchens, this time to the freezer to get some cookie dough. He looked around the kitchen to place the voice, but he only saw the two female cooks. The other one, the man, wasn't there.

Bobby went on to the freezer, which was cold, even for him, and filled the cookie dough bucket, only to find himself locked in. Pushing on the door with all his might and getting no response from the thing, he began banging on it. Finally, when he was about to use his power and ice himself over to keep warm, one of the women in the kitchen opened the door. Shivering despite his cold nature, Bobby took the cookie dough back to the front, but only after seeing who the familiar cook was.

"Can I have these fries extra crispy?" came an impatient girls voice. Ashley's voice. Grumbling to himself, the male cook took the fries from her and turned away from the food rack, where the customers could see. With a gasp, Bobby realized who it was. John.

"You want it extra crispy?" John grumbled, mimicking Ashley's voice. "You'll _get _extra crispy." Looking Bobby directly in the eye, he used his power to light the fries on fire, but put them out before they could seriously burn. When he handed them back to Ashley, though, her fingers were scalded. Trying not to grin, Bobby continued to the front.

Unfortunately, while Bobby was in the kitchen, John had played a bit of a trick on him. The cookie dough was no longer frozen. So, using his own power, Bobby tried to fix that little detail. The only problem? Instead of several small pieces, the cookie dough was now one solid mass. One solid, _frozen _mass, because Bobby hadn't exactly been careful in how much power he put into it.

Despite his thoughts that the day couldn't get any worse, Bobby was proven wrong once more. He was asked to clean the bathrooms. Dutifully, he got the rubber gloves, cleansers, air fresheners, broom and mop, and made his way to the ladies' room.

Upon entering the first bathroom stall, though, he automatically dropped everything and turned around. No way was he going to clean that up. No way. Without a word, he took off his visor, laid it on the counter, and walked out of the place. Never would he subject himself to something as disgusting, as vile, as altogether disturbing ... as dumping out the small trash containers attached to the side of the stall. Never should any man go through that.


End file.
